Deathly Waters: Occult America: Harper’s Landing by Shoshana Edwards

Author:Shoshana Edwards [Edwards, Shoshana]
Language: eng
Format: epub

Chapter Thirty-Six

Kavanaugh hated the waders. He only wore them when he had to, and then only if he was alone. He pulled them on and shrugged into the suspenders. He picked up the pole and walked five feet into the pond. It appeared to be approximately thirty feet across, and when he reached the five foot point the bottom began a sharp slope downward toward the middle. He stopped, released the hook and spinner lure from the pole, and cast out near the center of the pond. The weight hit bottom, and the lure began its slow slide up the line. Kavanaugh had put just enough weight on the spinner to keep it turning about five feet from the bottom. He prided himself on his skill in preparing tackle as much as his success in trophy fishing. He would have to stand for a while, but he was fit and standing in water was easy.

The pond was silent, as he had noted earlier, except for the occasional throaty croak of bullfrogs around the edges among the bulrushes. The sun was warm but not yet hot; he had a hat and had remembered to apply ample sunscreen. If there were any fish in this pond, John Kavanaugh would find them. Of that he was certain.

He reeled in the metal lure and again cast toward the center, this time to the north and a bit west. Again, he felt the solid thunk of the weight hitting the pond bottom and the slight pull as the lure ascended five feet. After twenty minutes, he had still not had a tug or any indication of fish in this pond. He knew from the various newspaper accounts he had read that there was a tunnel, for want of a better description, leading downward from the center of the pond to the underground streams that filled this area.

Since most of those streams spilled out into the Martin’s Way River, according to the maps he had consulted, he was certain that some fish should have made their way to this quiet, bug-filled pond. Bass would have been attracted to the abundance of water walkers and chiggers, but then there should have been ducks dropping in for meals also. The bullfrogs were undoubtedly well fed. He reeled in again and waded to the south, hoping for luck on the opposite side of the pond.

He was wearing his ear buds, listening to the soulful sounds of Bix Beiderbecke, or he might have heard the splash at the center of the pond. He was looking at where he was placing his feet, or he might have seen the wave headed toward him. He was focusing on where to sink his next cast, or he might have felt the grip on his leg sooner.

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